So, a couple of things, though:
1) If it DOES kill me, I’m going to need one of you to get over to Citrine Avenue and set a small fire in my dirty apartment so it looks like the disarray was not my fault, but the result of burly firemen tromping around the place. Please get Eli out first. She’s the worst, and I have really never had a pet as terrible as she — even worse than Abraham. Remember him? At least he was dumb. Eli is just mean. — but as bad as she is, she doesn’t deserve death by fire. Or, death at all. Just a good pinch every now and again when she’s on a toe-biting binge. That cat! Urgh! Someone will also need to get to the kennel — preferably someone social-media savvy because I believe in my heart that Russell Jenkins is so ugly as to be the next Doggie Instagram Influencer. He has outfits. I knitted and/or sewed them. Save them before you start the fire. You’ll be rich and famous, and have a fat little rhinoceros-shaped dog with one eye and a testicle leg to keep your feet warm at night.
2) If the hike DOESN’T kill me, it’s still a good bet that I’ll wander off into the wilderness in an attempt to live up to the life-changing-ness of walking/going around the world that was Eat, Pray, Love (pure comedy, because, seriously, you can try to self-actualize, but Sallie Mae, Esurance and Verizon do not give a kitty about where you are on Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs. They want their money, and at least one of them would call me in Jakarta, spiritual quest be damned), or Wild (equally hilarious to me). If that happens, please also set the fire and stuff, but see you in 6 months, 80 pounds lighter, awash in blisters and probably MRSA or a really exotic affliction, even, but filled with purpose!
Or, see you on Monday, tired. Either way, it’s gonna make for a fun time! Happy Little Friday Eve!